The Lair of the White Worm/Chapter 25
WHEN AFTER BREAKFAST the next morning Sir Nathaniel and Adam met, the elder man, after inquiring how his companion had slept, and satisfying him as to his own experiences in the same matter, said: “I think we may take it that we are both calm of nerve and brain, and that we are fit to resume so momentous a subject as that deferred. Suppose we begin by taking a problematical case of fact based on our conclusions of yesterday. Let us suppose a monster of the early days of the world—a dragon of the prime—of vast age running into thousands of years, to whom had been conveyed in some way—it matters not—a brain of even the most rudimentary kind—some commencement, however small, just sufficient for the beginning of growth. Suppose the monster to be of incalculable size and of a strength quite abnormal—a veritable incarnation of animal strength. Suppose this animal is allowed to remain in one place, thus being removed from accidents of interrupted development; might not, would not this creature in process of time—ages, if necessary—have that rudimentary intelligence developed? There is no impossibility in this. It is only the natural process of evolution; not taken from genii and species, but from individual instances. Atmosphere, which is the condition of life—vegetable and animal,—is an immediate product of size. In the beginning, the instincts of animals are confined to alimentation, self-protection, and the multiplication of their species. As time goes on and the needs of life become more complex, power follows need. Here let me make another digression. We are prepared already for abnormal growth—it is the corollary of normal growth. We have been long accustomed to consider growth as applied almost exclusively to size in its various aspects. But Nature, who has no doctrinaire ideas, may equally apply it to concentration. A developing thing may expand in any given way or form. Now, it is a scientific law that increase implies gain and loss of various kinds; what a thing gains in one direction it may lose in another. In mechanics, direction is a condition of the increase or limitation of speed or force. Why not apply this more widely? May it not be that Mother Nature may deliberately encourage decrease as well as increase—that it may be an axiom that what is gained in concentration is lost in size? Take, for instance, monsters tradition has accepted and localised, such as the Worm of Lambton or that of Spindleston Heugh. If such one were, by its own process of metabolism, to change much of its bulk for a little intellectual growth, we should at once arrive at a new class of creature, more dangerous, perhaps, than the world has ever had any experience of—a force which can think, which has no soul and no morals, and therefore no acceptance of responsibility. A worm or snake would be a good illustration of this, for it is cold-blooded, and therefore removed from the temptations which often weaken or restrict warm-blooded creatures. If, for instance, the Worm of Lambton—if such ever existed—were guided to its own ends by an organised intelligence capable of expansion, what form of creature could we imagine which would equal it in potentialities of evil? Why, such a being would devastate a whole country. Now, all these things require much thought, and we want to apply the knowledge usefully, and we should therefore be exact. Would it not be well to have another ‘easy’, and resume the subject later in the day?” “I quite agree, sir. I am in a whirl already; and I want to attend carefully to what you say; so that I may try to digest it.” Both men seemed fresher and better for the “easy,” and when they met in the afternoon each of them had, out of his thought, something to contribute to the general stock of information. Adam, who was by nature of a more militant disposition than his elderly friend, was glad to see that the conference at once assumed a practical trend. Sir Nathaniel recognised this, and, like an old diplomatist, turned it to present use. “Tell me now, Adam, what is the outcome, in your own mind, of our conversation?” “That the whole difficulty already assumes practical shape; but with added dangers that at first I did not dream of.” “What is the practical shape, and what are the added dangers? I am not disputing, but only trying to clear my own ideas by the consideration of yours—” Sir Nathaniel waited, so he went on: “Will it bore you, sir, if I put in order of an argument your own ideas as seen by me?” “Not at all; I should like it if it will help to clear my own mind.” “Then I will begin with your argument—only in general, not in detail. And please bear in mind, sir, that I am trying to state not so much what you said as the ideas conveyed to my mind—possibly erroneously,—but in the honest belief to comprehend thoroughly.” “Go on, my dear boy, do not fear. I shall understand and, if necessary, make allowance.” So Adam went on: “In the past, in the early days of the world, there were monsters who were so vast that they could exist thousands of years. Some of them must have overlapped the Christian era. They may have progressed intellectually in process of time. If they had in any way so progressed, or even got the most rudimentary form of brain, they would be the most dangerous things that ever were in the world. Tradition says that one of these monsters lived in the Marsh of the East and came up to a cave in Diana’s Grove which was also called the Lair of the White Worm. Such creatures may have grown down (small) as well as up (long). They may have grown into, or something like, human beings. Lady Arabella March is of snake nature. She has committed crimes to our knowledge. She retains something of the vast strength of her primal being—can see in the dark—has eyes of a snake. She used the Negro, and then dragged him through the snake’s hole down to the swamp; she is intent on evil, and hates some one we love. Result.…” “Yes, the result you arrive at?” “First, that Mimi Watford should be taken away at once—I should suggest West Australia. And then—” “Yes?” “The monster must be destroyed.” “Bravo! That is a true and fearless conclusion. At whatever cost, it must be carried out.” “At once?” “Soon, at all events. That creature’s very existence is a danger. Her presence in this neighbourhood makes the danger immediate.” As he spoke, Sir Nathaniel’s mouth hardened and his eyebrows came down till they met. There was no doubting his concurrence in the resolution, or his readiness to help in carrying it out. But he was an elderly man with much experience and knowledge of law and diplomacy. It seemed to him to be a stern duty to prevent anything irrevocable taking place till it had been thought out and all was ready. There were all sorts of legal cruxes to be thought out, not only regarding the taking of life, even of a monstrosity in human form, but also of property. Lady Arabella, be she woman or snake or devil, owned the ground she moved in, according to British law, and the law is jealous and swift to avenge wrongs done within its ken. Within three hundred years the law has accepted facts and evidence that would not be received in later years by school children. All such difficulties should be—must be—avoided for Mr. Salton’s sake, for Adam’s own sake, and, most of all, for Mimi Watford’s sake. Before he spoke again, Sir Nathaniel had made up his mind that he must try to postpone decisive action until the circumstances depended on—which, after all, were only problematical— should have been tested satisfactorily, one way or another. When he did speak, Adam at first thought that his friend was wavering in his intention, or “funking” the responsibility. He could have no such thought regarding Adam. That young man’s strong, mobile face was now as set as flint. His eyes were full of fire, non-blazing fire, but slumbrous, which is much more indicative of danger. His brows were in a straight line across his face, and his eyes in parallel course. As to purpose, he was fixed; the only question with him was—when! However, his respect for Sir Nathaniel was so great that he would not act or even come to a conclusion on a vital point without his sanction. He came close and almost whispered in his ear: “Will you speak with me of this again—say, when my uncle has gone to bed, and we shall be undisturbed?” Sir Nathaniel nodded. They had both determined to wait.